


That Man

by thegreatandpowerfultoaster



Series: Reader Inserts [7]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Boss/Employee Relationship, Drinking, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Reader-Insert, This is probably my favorite reader insert ive ever written tbh??, Those domestic vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster
Summary: Had he not been her boss, she might've kissed him, then. 'Thank God', she thinks, 'for Frank Fontaine.'Ha.
Relationships: Atlas (BioShock)/Reader, Frank Fontaine/Reader
Series: Reader Inserts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1124208
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	That Man

**Author's Note:**

> I'm re-posting all my previous reader-inserts separately as to more accurately tag their content! So if you've seen this before, that's why.
> 
> If you want to request another fic, you can find me @goodmorningaperture on tumblr.

_May 8th, 1948_

Although Frank Fontaine has only been in Rapture since February, he's going around like he was born here. Fontaine Futuristics is nearly as important as any venture of Ryan's, though you won't catch a single person saying so, at least not in public. 

And of course, if you said it in front of Fontaine himself, it would only serve to further inflate his ego. Nobody wanted to do that, being that everybody in the office was well aware that he already thought he was "The hot shit in this rustbucket," (Which of course was a direct quote). 

Sometimes she wondered why someone like Ryan would've brought someone like Fontaine to his city, but even if he could be stuck up and kind of slimy, he was a brilliant businessman. And then she would wonder why he hired her as a secretary.

There were probably a lot of people in Rapture better suited for the job, and who would actually just do what he said when he wanted but she wasn't so good at that.

She was thinking about this now, and it must've been obvious how out of it she was because he waved a hand in front of her face. "Hey, hon...y'still there or am I gonna have to call a doctor up here?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Sorry. Just keep talking, I'll keep writing." (Y/N) didn't really know when she'd stopped paying attention, so she didn't know how much she'd missed, but it was fine. It could all be pieced together later, and nothing she might've left out would be missed. He wasn't meticulous, really so she wasn't worried.

But he didn't keep going, just tilted his head and looked at her. "You look like you could use a drink, (L/N)." He said finally. Had it been that obvious? "You've been gettin' distracted an awful lot lately."

How did she explain that? It didn't seem any more frequent than usual, maybe-wait... Was he concerned? No, that wasn't it. He just needed an excuse to drink, is all. Luckily enough, so did she. So they sat and did the finances over a glass of alcohol. Had he not been her boss, she might've kissed him, then. ' _Thank_ _God',_ she thinks, ' _for_ _Frank_ _Fontaine_.'

Ha.

* * *

_December 21st, 1951_

It was done...Rapture, that was. The people who'd believed in it, the people who were new or somehow still exited to wake up every morning under the ocean were out celebrating. The last rivet had been placed, the last sheets of metal and glass layed, but she wasn't celebrating.

(There was always a lot of celebrating in Rapture, since a lot of these people took up any excuse they could to drink and dance and talk about inane things. She didn't get it, not always at least).

But she doesn't really feel like celebrating, because after a long day working she's found it's far more satisfying to sit on her settee with a book and just let her mind wander. Granted she doesn't get much reading done. But the thinking is a little more important than that to her. Sometimes she thinks about what might be going on above them, on the surface. Surely nothing to match the things that go on down here, but still interesting, likely.

Sometimes she thinks about work, and maybe if anyone heard that they'd think she was obsessed with her job, but that wasn't it. She was working with one of the biggest companies in the entire place though, almost at the very top and she just didn't want to mess up. It was important that she didn't mess up. 

Even when she wanted nothing more than to just go home and crawl into her warm bed and think about nothing, it wasn't as easy as that. At least her boss (who had quickly become something like a friend, although somewhat of a rude and foulmouthed one) got done with the entire affair not long after she did in the day. Work really stopped after lunch, even if they stayed in the office long after that.

The book isn't really all that interesting, she's read it at least twice now, and despite what one might think, that hasn't made it any better. So, she's not hesitant in putting it down when someone knocks on the door. 

God, she hopes that no one from work had figured out where she lived. After all, who else knows about her in Rapture?

She opens the door just a tiny bit and sticks her nose out, and who she sees surprises her. _Fontaine_. "O-Oh. Hi." She doesn't really know what else to say. _'Why are you here?'_ seems insensitive, ' _I was just thinking about you, and I, and our places in this society Ryan's built'_ isn't much better.

"Hey," He seems to find her sort of flustered approach funny, since he's grinning like an idiot. "Can I come in, or do I just haveta' stand here in the middle of the hall?" 

Without directly answering, she steps aside, out of the doorway and comes in. She offers him a drink, and everything after that is sort of fuzzy. It isn't that she's drunk, no. One drink-maybe two isn't enough to have that kind of effect. It's entirely him.

She wants to say that any powerful person might have the same effect, anyone equally intellectual to herself even, but she'd be lying.

They end up sitting together, laughing about something that isn't at all as funny as they've made it out to be, and leaning on each other. She _knows_ what he wants and really doesn't care, they both know he isn't going to get it. Then why did he waste his time coming over in the first place? 

Why did she waste time letting him in? 

* * *

_June 13th 1956_

Had Fontaine been avoiding her? And for what, Suchong and the Little sister project? Why would he be spending so much time down there?

She could only hold off questions from the press so long before something untrue got out. 

She almost manages to run headfirst into doctor Tenenbaum as she's walking down the halls. The woman looks about as tired and frustuated as (Y/N)'s currently feeling herself. "Ah! You. Fontaine was looking for you, he's down hall. Go!"

Tenenbaum doesn't _scurry_ off, but really only on a technicality. She's quick to go, at that point, adjusting the scale, books, and what look like a pair of tongs she's trying to juggle all at once. (Y/N) doesn't even get to thank her for pointing her in the right direction.

A right mystery, that Doctor Tenenbaum. She finds Fontaine where she was told she would, in a little room that looks like a lounge or a waiting room. It's just him in there, grinning like a madman and bouncing one leg on the floor. 

He's...happy. Which is strange, consisting the circumstances. She throws her hands up. "You walk out, and expect me to not only deal with feral journalists but also be able to find you here?"

It's only then that he seems to notice her. "Sure, you're good at that sort of thing. The wardin' off journalists part. I was gonna give you a call here in just a minute, really."

He is still her boss, so she just barely manages to resist the urge to tell him off. "Sure. You can't avoid the press forever, you know. And this is easy, we've already talked about how you just need to say that branch is closing down for updates, instead of letting on the thing about that spliced up-Frank? Frank are you listening to me?"

The use of his first name makes his eyes snap to hers, at least. She's still sighs. "You weren't listening. What's got you in such a mood? A good one, I mean but you're not listening."

"Sorry, sweetheart. Just thinkin' about an investment that's gonna pay off well, 's all."

"With Suchong and Tenenbaum?"

Fontaine just grins. "Hey, you ever wanna go out to that fancy restaurant by Arcadia? Heard it's real pretty, 'n all that shit." 

She just shakes her head. "You're the second richest man in Rapture, you can go out wherever you want whenever you want, and you sure as hell don't have to invite me, so what's the real occasion?"

That gives him paise, but only for a second or two. "What, can't invite my favorite assistant to dinner once in a while? Just a contingency plan in case Things to go hell around here. I'd show you now, but it won't make much sense, so let's just wait it out and keep things away from the public."

Paranoia is a good trait to have in a place where everyone's just looking out for themseves. Doesn't make it a healthy trait, either way. She sighs. "Fine. I can see I'm not getting specifics out of you. So sure, dinner. Maybe we can get some work done that we should done earlier when we were actually on the clock."

He laughs at her, sounding like a madman. She should quit, but she isn't going to. She's going to dinner, instead.

* * *

_  
April 5th, 1957_

_"Shhh."_ He'd whispered, hands still over her eyes. "Yah gotta not scare him, darlin'."

Him? That didn't help her guess at all. He was taking her to see a person? How would she scare anyone? He's too close, and its...well, not making her nervous, exactly but someone must have a heater on or something up here, because she's so warm that her hands are shaking a little and his hand is calloused and big and cool compared to hers, and she's thinking about that and a dozen other things she she shouldn't be noticing about Fontaine.

"I thought you said this was your contingency plan."

"It is, you'll see. Hush."

(Y/N)'s pushed into turning a corner, and then another, and then they go straight for what feels like an hour. She manages to almost trip over a a door frame, but one of the hands over her eyes shift seamlessly into a hand on her shoulder, holding her back from falling into who knows what.

They stop, then. It's so quiet, she can't possibly imagine another person here. Nevertheless, he moves his hand away from her eyes, and she's met with a wholly unexpected sight.

"Your contingency plan is an infant?"

He laughs. "Sorta. (Y/N), that's Ryan's brat." he nods down at the baby. "Ryan's brat, that's your other boss."

The baby mostly just blinks at her with his abnormally big brown eyes and keeps sucking on his fist. She doesn't know what she expect, but not a _baby_. Wholly unremarkable, but sort of cute baby.

Ryan's, though? That didn't make any sense. Any kid of Ryan's would be...

Well, not in Suchong's clinic, for starters. Not with Fontaine for another. And a baby? Honestly this whole thing was absurd. "Okay, I'm going to need a better explanation than 'Contingency Plan', because this one's looking pretty bad for you."

That isn't enough of a threat, apparently since Frank just laughs. "You won't have t'put a spin on this one for the press, doll, don't worry. He's...hmm. Not blackmail. Just a test. Should grow up t'be the strongest person in Rapture, give or take one of them Big Daddies.

"And it's not hurting him at all?"

"Nah. Didn't know you'd worry about that, but I guess I shoulda figured. He's fine."

She takes about look at him, and then back to Frank, who's got his arms folded behind his back and is looking...almost nervous. It hits her. "You want this kept secret."

He laughs. "Can't keep shit from you, can I? Yeah. Imagine if that got out, y'know how many people would literally kill to get their hands on Andrew Ryan's brat?"

She can certainly imagine. And they as a company haven't exactly helped, supplying Splicers. "Yeah. I can. Hey, does he have a name?"

Fontaine shrugs rather nonchalantly and reaches in his slacks pocket for a lighter and cigarette, and (Y/N) thinks about slapping his arm and telling him there's an infant here that doesn't need that. "Does he need one?"

"Of course he does, stupid!" She forgets that Frank is her boss until the words come out. Damn, she's gotten attached to him, douchebag boss or not. He just takes a long drag.

"You're real endearing, sweetheart."

"His name is Jack." (Y/N) gets a bit closer and gently taps the baby's nose. "And what's your middle name, Frank?" He grumbles something she doesn't catch so she asks him louder. "Didn't catch that!" He grumbles again and she starts to laugh once she hears. "Okay, Jack Oswald Ryan. That's as good as its going to get, I think."

Frank smiles like he has a heart, at you, and for a brief second, at Jack. "Wynand."

"Pardon?"

"Kid's last name can't be Ryan, can it? So that's the one we're puttin' in his head."

"Okay. Jack Oswald Wynand then. Still not so bad. It's better than not having a name. Right?"

Jack doesn't do much as blink but Frank nods, strangely serious. "Sure is."

* * *

_May 20th, 1957_

She can't help but coo at the baby, despite some of his unusual features and the lack of knowledge a child his age should have. He could barely sit up on his own when he should have been starting to stand, poor thing. 

Tenenbaum, Suchong, and Frank weren't exactly the most parental people around, and despite being more of a tool to the aforementioned people than an actual baby, (Y/N) thought he needed someone, at least.

He's going back into his growing tank thing, because Frank has no sense of patience and wants his superweapon done _now_.

While she's cooing absolutely incoherently and wishing that Jack didn't have to grow up so fast because babies were cute and he was cute, Fonaine comes in, newspaper in one hand, lit cigar in the other.

Oh, maybe she could wave him in front of Fontaine for a minute. He liked to pretend he was immune to the whole cute baby thing, but she knew better.

"You're awfully engrossed in that paper."

He shrugs. "Jus' gotta love seein' what crazy shit people stuck somewhere they don't wanna be do under even more pressure."

Yeah, she knows. She's been crunching numbers all week. Well, their numbers, since he was pretty insistent the casualties related to his industries were what mattered, and she was sure she doesn't especially want to know more than that.

"Wanna hold a cute baby while you brood?"

His face scrunches up in an unconvincing attempt at disgust, at least to the disconcerting eye. "Last time I tried to hold that thing he threw up all over my nice suit."

She frowns. "I warned you about that, and then tried to hand you the towel. That's what babies do after they eat-It's fine, I like him, I'll hold him."

Fontaines frown turns into a full scowl, any bit of disgust gone. "I didn't say I wouldn't. I jus' said he was gross."

(Y/N) rolls her eyes but picks Jack up and stands, holding him out. He approaches like you'd approach a wild animal you weren't sure about. And then he takes him, and sits him on his waist, and her heart does a thing.

And she thinks about how much trouble she's going to be in, but she leans in towards him and kisses him. And he leans in more, but she's got to push one of his shoulders back so he doesn't squish Jack, and all and all, it isn't so romantic, but it's _nice_.

And they just keep going until she's got to take a breath, and he glares, but it holds no heat at all. "You've never even _heard_ the word improprietary, have yah?"

"Like you're any better, you leaned in!"

Her tone carries no real venom, nor does hers. "Shoulda thought of that before you acted then. 'Sides, we've gotta make the most of what time we've got."

(Y/N) can't fight the laughter that comes. "One kiss, and you're suddenly the most cheesy man I've ever seen."

"Nah, I'm serious," he waves the paper in front of her face. "Never know when things could go to shit."

"Ah, " she says "There. There it is. I'm not sleeping with you because you want to get one more in before we're killed in a riot or something." 

* * *

_September 12th, 1958_

That...couldn't be right. It couldn't....Fontaine couldn't be dead. It didn't seem real.

And she didn't even mean it in the sappy way, "Oh, what a man with a big presence, who did so much for the world as a whole, how can he possibly have been taken away from us so soon..."

No, not that. It just didn't seem right logistically. Right? That was it.

Jack was ready to go, and by that she meant Tenenaum sent him...well, she didn't know where. She'd never see him again.

And this will that they'd found was...vague. Legally binding, but only on a technicality, really.

Left a few things to Sinclair, and Gil Alexander of all people, and some distant relative topside that nobody'd even be able to contact, and so for now, everything was staying right where it was.

Just looking at is is frusturating, because she feels like she can't touch it, because it's his. If she moved it, he won't be able to figure out where it is, because without a map in front of his face, Frank wouldn't know right from left.

(Y/N) huffs, and decides to give up for tonight.

Home is a lot longer journey than its felt like this morning. Maybe because there's not all that much to look forward to. She won't have a job in a few weeks, and that's if the fisheries or the scientists don't end up on strike or crazy like the rest of the rioters before whoever the new boss is fires her.

There's no conversations to have on the way back, until her and Frank split at the halfway point because home is in different directions. Or lately, not splitting at all, because he'll come up with some excuse and they'll both end up on her couch, or at Suchong's lab.

Tonight she'll probably end up on the couch anyways bottle in hand. (Y/N) hasn't ever thought of herself as the mourning sort, but it was like he'd said months ago. They didn't know how much time they had left.

The door doesn't need to unlock, it already is. She stumbles past the living room right into the kitchen and digs for the bottle she knows is in the back of a cupboard somewhere but _where_?

The bottle doesn't have much more than a good swallow left, but that's the hazard in sharing with someone who's nearly a functioning alcoholic.

Sharing. _Sharing_ , past tense. That was...going to take some getting used to.

Maybe this was what denial felt like. Nothing, just normal. Like she'd go to work tomorrow and it had been April first, and they'd laugh and forgo any actual work to suck on each others faces until something important fell off a desk.

She takes the bottle and flops down on the couch, not bothering to even detour to turn on the light, and starts to unscrew the lid.

"You gonna share that, doll?"

(Y/N) nearly jumps out of her own skin. The little bit of liquid sloshes in the bottle, thankfully not out of it. She swears loudly. "You're dead!"

The barely visible silhouette of Frank Fontaine shakes with laughter. "Thought a little riot could off me? Nah, it's all part of a plan. Very secret one, pro'ly shouldn't be letting you in on it all, but what can I say?"

"Start with you're sorry for not letting know ahead of time? For making me worry since the moment I heard. I mean, I knew something wasn't right, but..."

He looks wrong, somehow. Less...Well, it sounds rude to say it, but less well fed. Skinnier and longer, and although by the light of the kitchen she can make out the sort of awkward way he always crosses his legs.

"Couldn't fool you, huh? Don't worry, I've got everyone else down. Think you'll be able to keep it to yourself? Oh, hey. Turn on the light, I think you'll like this change." 

Slowly she hands him the bottle, and gets up and turns on the light. She nearly breaks something again, because visually at least, that is _not_ Frank Fontaine.

He's skinnier like she'd thought, and his face is entirely different dhaped, and he has a full head of dark hair, and stubble even, and she's pretty sure just plastic surgery couldn't do that. "You spliced?"

Not that it was bad. Her tone probably made it sound like she thought it was bad.

He shrugs, and runs a hand through his new hair. "Sure. All part of the new persona. Wanna be my inside gal?"

Not for the first time, she thinks it'd be safer to get away from whatever he has planned. But (Y/N) only nods. "Aren't I always?" 


End file.
